


kokichi ouma goes on a panta-fueled rampage and almost kills three people

by kazuichisbeanie, nessandrie



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Crack, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Gen, alternate universe - walmart demon, do you think god lives in heaven out of fear of what he has created, everyone is definitely totally in character yep mhmm, how tf am i supposed to tag this, kinda kokichi pov, not really - Freeform, pure unadulterated crack, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:26:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazuichisbeanie/pseuds/kazuichisbeanie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessandrie/pseuds/nessandrie
Summary: don't ask.





	kokichi ouma goes on a panta-fueled rampage and almost kills three people

**Author's Note:**

> the two of us went back and forth on this in a discord DM. originally it wasn't actually kokichi but i was like "hey i have an idea" and now this is a thing that exists i guess. also i know capitalization is weird i just kinda chose to not fix it

you stumble over to the counter, sweating. you have many, many bottles of grape panta. you may have a problem.

 

The acne-ridden teenager at the counter gives me a look, before slowly scanning the bottles one by one. He is touching. My panta.

 

you manage to hold back the seething rage building up inside of you, although a bit of screeching does peek through your clenched teeth

 

The boy winces a bit, wondering if maybe his Bluetooth speaker had finally broken. The cashier finishes ringing up the purchases and finally says. “Your total is... 34.96$. Would you like a ba-“ I don't hear the rest of what he said. I slap two twenties on the counter, scoop up all my panta and sprint out.

 

he looks on in earnest confusion as you let out the most heinous, velociraptor-esque noise anyone could make without destroying their vocal chords. it lasts at least a minute as you tear into your hoard of purple soft drinks, still in the parking lot.

 

As other shoppers go by, they take pictures and videos. A good amount of the Walmart staff have now gathered outside the store, discussing how to approach my situation. Finally, one of the greeters advances towards me. “Heya there, sport. What are you doing, p-pal?” Their voice grows meeker and smaller as I swivel my head around to look at them.

 

another greeter, an older woman, decides to attempt to approach you. she's trembling as she makes her way up to you from behind, fear evident in her eyes. she lightly taps you on the shoulder, but doesn't even have the time to move her hand back as you reflexively turn around fully, put your hands on her shoulders and shake her. you're basically foaming at the mouth, a familiar purple.

 

After scarring Kaito and sending Kirumi to the hospital, one last greeter approaches me. I make direct eye contact with him on his entire way over, still chugging my beautiful prize. _My_ prize. They want _my_ prize, that’s why they’re here. They want to take away _my_ prize. They can’t have it. It’s _mine. I paidforitiownitit'smyprizeYOUCANTHAVEIT!_ I start crushing the bottle in my hand, anger clouding my already pretty fucking clouded senses as the greeter I’ve been staring down this whole time has not faltered once.

 

despite the veins in your neck bulging far beyond their natural limits, your pupils having dilated so far inwards they might as well not be there, and your general demeanour being one ring short of a Gollum look-alike contest winner, the final greeter continued his stride as if nothing was wrong with the situation at hand and that you were just a typical walmart weirdo.

 

 _whyisn'thescaredheshouldbescaredthisismypantamypantait'sminemineMINEMINEMINE_ , you vaguely question in your one-track, Panta-craving mind. when he finally reaches you, he just... stares you down. nothing is happening. seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours. _Whyisn'thedoinganythingmakeamoveyou'realreadyoutheremightaswellfuckingdOSOMETHING_

 

Though slowly, the cogs are turning in my mind. _We've been here. For hours. He's been staring me down. For hours? Does he think I'll crack? Does he think I'll give in to him does he think ill give in iwouldntgiveinitsmypantamineyoucanthavemypantaitsmypantamypantamypantamypantamypantamypantamypantamypANTAMYPANTAMYPANTAMYPANTA!_ I start screeching loudly, for a reason beyond any other sane person's comprehension. The screech resonates throughout the parking lot, as the people who were still at walmart quickly left, hoping to escape the dreaded noise that could vaguely be compared to a dog whistle. Still, the greeter does not budge, his only sort of movement being the furrowing of his brows. This angers me. My rage once again consumes me, as it had died down in the past few hours. _whyisn'themovingwhyisn'thereactingheshouldbereactingheshouldrecoilinfearheshouldreacthehastoreacthecan'tjustsitthereheneedstomovemovemovemovemovemovemovemovemovemovemoveMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVE_

  
somehow, in your twisted perception of reality, you took mentally screaming at him to move as a choice of your own actions. once again, you give them no time to even move as you pounce on him, knocking the stalwart greeter in one fell swoop. even though his entire upper body was just slammed into the jagged pavement and you're hunched over on top of him, drool seeping out of your mouth, he still hasn't flinched. a hint of recognition washes over your panta-soaked body.

it's not a greeter at all. it was the cashier. his name tag reads 'shuichi saihara.' "you didn't take your $5," he finally speaks.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im the other author i went in and changed all the fantas to pantas you're welcome


End file.
